The ointments,
the oils called essential
because they bear
the essences of their origin,
flower, sap, wounded tree
or musk of beast, and these
she brings to such a quiet desk
and writes with them
into tiny vials or just dabs
some on her wrist and raises
it to me sometimes
so I can read it too
the essences interwoven
in a new odor never before
smelled in this green world–
her magic of weaving
ancient ointments into
the utterly fresh and new.
You see why I call what
she does writing–and each
new scent deserves a name
and sometimes hours later
it will say itself in a dark room.

1 April 2023